


The Wedding Night Kata

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [183]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-11
Updated: 2011-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-10 10:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4388366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Quinn's wedding night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wedding Night Kata

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flamethrower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamethrower/gifts).



> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Nerowill, Emila-Wan, and Carol  
> Mali Wane for posting  
> My former betas: Alex, Ula, and Padawan Sue
> 
> Guest beta: Flamethrower  
>   
> References:  
> Our lads' first wedding night: [A Wedding in Arcadia #8 -- Wedding Night](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1819501)  
> "Inner 18-year-old": [Teenage Daydream](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4276134)

"We did it, laddie mine!" crowed Quinn.  
  
Ian slapped a 'Do Not Disturb' magnet on the door of their hotel room and bolted it with an anticipatory smile. He and Quinn kicked off their shoes and threw their wallets and keys on the dresser in a clatter of metal. A blizzard of wedding cards followed, fresh from the pockets of their tuxedos.  
  
Quinn hugged Ian to him in tender exuberance, eager to celebrate their wedding night in all its unique intimacy.  
  
"I'm still flyin'!" Ian exclaimed, hugging him back in wonder.  
  
"And I'll do my best to keep it that way." Quinn's chuckle ruffled Ian's hair, which a comb had kept in tenuous control during the reception, but was eager to return to its natural spikiness now.  
  
Ian reached up for their first kiss since their dance at the reception, seemingly eons ago. Now that they were in private, the urgency started to build, and the grooms felt the tickles of arousal they wouldn't allow themselves to feel in public. They kissed and kissed, losing their usual all-but-Jedi awareness of their surroundings.  
  
Since they owned their tuxedos and didn't have to worry about bringing them back to a judgmental store clerk, they shrugged off their jackets, letting them slide down their arms and drop to the softness of the carpet. This freed them to concentrate on unraveling their bowties, which seemed to involve more finesse than tying them had, probably due to their impatient fingers.  
  
After that, the studs on their shirts added insult to injury, especially for Quinn's broad fingertips. He only unbuttoned Ian's shirt enough to pull it over his head, then sent it sailing across the room with his pent-up energy. One less obstacle between him and his herven. He had a vague impression that it ended up on the luggage rack but was too interested in the feast in front of him to care.  
  
Quinn smiled into Ian's dancing eyes, loving his flush, adoring his answering grin. "Your turn, m'lad."  
  
At least Ian had the patience, along with the smaller fingers, to completely unbutton Quinn's shirt with deft precision, only to discard it with the same insouciance as his husband.  
  
After unzipping each other carefully, they just let their trousers crumple to the floor, followed by underwear already dotted with precome, and kicked them aside. Almost as an afterthought, they reached down to peel off their socks, wiggling cramped toes into the deep-pile carpet.  
  
They stood before one another, naked and erect. A burst of craving sang through them, as if each were the last drink of water on Tatooine.  
  
Fortunately, the king-sized-bed was only five steps away, though they never found out how they got there; it might as well have been levitation. Quinn almost threw Ian onto the mattress, always aware in the back of his mind of his husband's gymnastic reflexes. Then he pounced, covering him with more warmth than any blanket.  
  
Luckily, Ian had thought ahead and folded down the aquamarine comforter that morning, so they'd landed on freshly laundered sheets and stood at least some chance of keeping the comforter clean. Of course, given the magical blend of love and lust coursing through them at the moment, there wasn't much of a chance it would escape unscathed.  
  
More wedding night kisses, all the more intoxicating since they had never imagined six years ago that they might be repeated.  
  
Quinn nipped Ian's nose, then looked into eyes gleaming with joy. "Being my groom suits you, lad."  
  
"And it's a good look on you, too, handsome." Ian sighed happily.  
  
"Probably because tonight was even better than last time," said Quinn between kisses.  
  
"Just what we've been hoping for," Ian said in delight. "All of us together was fantastic!"  
  
Quinn nipped his nose. "My inner 18-year-old is flyin' high, after all of this approval from the folks."  
  
Ian chuckled. "Right along with mine."  
  
"I can feel that, lad," Quinn said, as he pressed his thigh into Ian's erection, a wicked grin making his lips all the more kissable.  
  
Both of them smiled as they thought of that long-ago night when they had made Ian's teenage daydream of making love in his childhood bed come to life. In fact, they'd been embedded in each other's lives for so long that it seemed like they had actually known each other as teenagers.  
  
And yet, tonight it felt all new.  
  
Ian ran his hands over Quinn's shoulders, marveling afresh that this man was his husband. Now he understood why long-married couples frequently renewed their vows -- the alluring combination of old and new, familiar and exotic.  
  
Quinn was certainly mapping out Ian's face as if it were unexplored territory, nuzzling and nipping the hills of his cheeks, the plain of his forehead, the mountain of his nose, the divot in his chin.  
  
The sounds Ian was making were turning him on, not to mention turning his blood to lava. He rubbed himself against Ian's skin deliciously, as his mouth explored his lad's neck and shoulders, leaving a trail of shivering delight behind.  
  
Somehow, Ian was able to wriggle enough to press their cocks together, even under all of that gentle muscle. Twin grunts oofed out of them. Gliding along on a stream of slickness, he was in heaven...  
  
...And so was Quinn. "Y'feel so good, laddie," he huffed out.  
  
Ian made a sound between a chuckle and a moan. "Says the man who is turning me into pudding."  
  
More kisses, while Quinn ran his hands up and down Ian's sides. He rolled his hips in a lazy dance, careful not to fall into a rhythm, so that Ian never knew when a thrust was coming.  
  
"Gotta...have ya...now!" Ian finally got out amidst his panting.  
  
Happily, Quinn had thought ahead, just as Ian had with the comforter; he gave Ian a triumphant smile as he took a tube of gel from under an unused pillow with a cocky flourish. He prepared his husband with exquisite care, then slathered the remainder of gel over his pulsating cock with one quick brush of his huge hand.  
  
Quinn positioned Ian's legs with the kind of attentiveness he used when correcting his aikido positions, engrossed in their wedding night kata -- a sequence which, unlike the dance that Master Yodama had enjoyed, would only be performed in private. He chuckled, picturing them using the mats in the dojo for these intimate moves, and felt his arousal spike all the higher.  
  
After kissing his husband on the bridge of his nose, he pushed into Ian's warmth, knowing he would never forget this moment. His lad's auburn hair dazzled him with its sunburst on the pillow; his gymnast's body strained beneath him; his blue-green eyes beamed up at him in utter adoration.  
  
Ian trembled under him, every vow he had ever made to this man singing in his mind, as his body welcomed its literal and metaphorical other half. He moved instinctively to meet Quinn's thrusts, the rocking of his incredible hips increasing the pleasure exponentially for both of them. The sheet underneath him was wet and wrinkled, and his back slid along it with every one of his husband's thrusts.  
  
"Y'need a proper pounding, m'lad," Quinn growled with his irresistible lilt. Crinkles framed the deep blue of his eyes, as he gazed down at his groom with love and hunger.  
  
"That I do, ma herven," Ian was more than happy to agree, even though he had a feeling he was too close to his climax already. Luckily, perhaps, Quinn's broad hand couldn't fit between them in this position, so his cock remained untouched.  
  
"And I'm just the man to give it to you," said Quinn, the testosterone coursing through him fueling and augmenting his usual self-confidence. Ian's quiver in response just added to the lusty thrill of it all for him. He suited his action to the word and kept up an increasingly intense series of thrusts, guaranteed to send Ian over the edge.  
  
At last, when he knew he could hold off orgasm no more, Ian strained up to reach Quinn's mouth for a voracious kiss. "Oh, it's too much," he gasped out, then came onto their stomachs with a shout.  
  
Quinn must have agreed, though he couldn't muster the words to say so, because he lost it then, coming in ecstatic rushes into his beloved husband. He flopped down onto him, then quickly rolled to the side, despite his exhaustion.  
  
Ian struggled to catch his breath, close to laughter, closer to sleep.  
  
Only his Jedi-like willpower allowed Quinn to keep awake long enough to clean and cover both of them.  
  
They curled up, together as always, basking in the gift of a second wedding night.


End file.
